


Circumstantial

by RyanRossIsAPrincess



Series: Pleading Guilty [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Light Bondage, M/M, a lot of yelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanRossIsAPrincess/pseuds/RyanRossIsAPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sir, the records will show that my third witness clearly stated that she saw the defendant leaving the victim’s house ten minutes after the victim’s time of death, and the defendant’s fingerprints are all over the victim’s house!” Frank shouts. </p>
<p>“Exactly!” the defense attorney yells, “Circumstantial!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circumstantial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxProudoftheScarsxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxProudoftheScarsxx/gifts).



> Alternatively titled "Lawyers Have Sex and I Hate Katie". Happy (slightly belated) birthday Katiebaby. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Everything I know about being a lawyer comes from Perry Mason and Wikipedia.

Frank tries to take deep, measured breaths and repress the homicidal urges that keep washing over him every time that damned defense attorney opens his stupid fucking mouth.

“Your honor, my client is innocent! The prosecution has no basis for _any_ of their claims, it’s all circumstantial!”

_Circumstantial my ass,_ Frank thinks as he takes more deep breaths like his therapist keeps badgering him to remember to do.

“Sir, the records will show that my third witness _clearly stated_ that she saw the defendant leaving the victim’s house ten minutes after the victim’s time of death, and the defendant’s fingerprints are all over the victim’s house!” Frank shouts.

“Exactly!” the defense attorney yells, “Circumstantial!”

The judge sighs and drops his head into his hands. “I’m going to need some time to think about this, gentleman. Court is adjourned until one p.m. tomorrow.”

And with the crack of the gavel, all Frank can think about is how fucking much he wants to smack that defense attorney and how much he needs a damned drink.

_Christ_.

***

The club is a little classier than Frank would usually prefer, but right now, he doesn’t really care where his liquor is coming from, as long as there’s liquor and he’s drinking it. Seeing as the nearest liquor was a good hour and a half from the courthouse (not to mention the rush-hour traffic he just sat through), he didn’t get a chance to change out of his courtroom clothes.

He leaves the jacket of his suit in the back of his car and he checks his wallet to see if he’s got enough cash to last him the rest of the evening. The bouncer stops him ( _Shocker. Fuck being so short_ ) and is about to ask for his ID, but Frank hands him a fifty and the bouncer lets him through, no questions.

 Frank is met with the usual guttural pound of bass and the perpetual smell of booze and sweat that seems to be infused in the very structure of the building. Regardless, his sights are set on the bar the second he crosses the threshold.

Climbing up on a barstool, Frank loosens his tie and rolls up his sleeves, revealing spirals of ink. He sighs heavily and directs his attention to the bartender, who’s looking at him with a small smile, like she actually appreciates the fact Frank is here.

“Give me as much as you legally can of the strongest thing you’ve got,” Frank says, pulling out more cash and dropping it on the counter.

“You got it,” she says, and turns away.

Frank himself turns around to face the writhing mass of bodies that usually occupies the dancefloor, gaze settling on a blonde twenty-something who’s wearing a too short dress and is pinned between two guys who must have three times the muscle mass she does.

He’s so occupied with trying to calculate the difference in body mass between the three that he doesn’t notice the other person sliding into the stool next to his. In fact, his attention has slipped from its original focus on the twenty-something to a girl with chin length curly black hair who’s giving him ‘fuck-me’ eyes from across the room and is slowly making her way towards him, swaying her hips tantalizingly and tugging the corner of her painted red bottom lip into her mouth.

“Hey, sunshine,” she purrs, dragging her index finger up the length of his forearm, her eyes widening as they drink in his tattoos. She bites her lip a little harder. “Buy me a drink?”

Frank can’t fight down a smirk.

“Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression sweetheart, but I don’t swing that way. Better luck next time,” he says, turning back around with a flourish to face the bar, just in time for the bartender to set his drink down in front of him.

The drink burns the back of his throat, but he keeps drinking, only stopping when the person next to him lets out a low whistle.

“You trying to destroy your entire esophagus?” they ask.

“Ideally, yes,” he replies, and turns to face them.

He nearly chokes on his own spit.

It’s the fucking defense attorney.

The defense attorney’s eyes widen so much that for a second Frank thinks that his eyes are going to bug out of his skull. “You’re the-” he starts.

“Yeah,” Frank says, cutting him short. “Give me one second to drink the rest of this, and then I’ll be ready to talk to you.”

The defense attorney makes a little ‘offended’ noise at the back of his throat. “Rude.”

Frank knocks back his drink in one go and gives himself a second to breathe before turning to face the current bane of his existence.

“So,” Frank says.

“So,” the guy repeats.

“What brings you here?” Frank asks, catching the attention of the bartender and ordering another of ‘whatever that last thing was’ while he waits for the defense attorney to answer.

“Some dick at work was making my job a hell of a lot harder than it should be,” he says.

Frank snorts. “Small fuckin world, huh?”

“Yeah? You work with a dick too?”

“Oh yeah,” Frank says, thanking the bartender as she sets his drink in front of him. He takes a long drink before continuing. “This guy, I’m fucking telling you. He _loves_ nitpicking every little thing I say.”

That makes the defense attorney laugh, and as much as Frank doesn’t want to admit it, he _does_ have a very cute laugh.

“I’m Gerard,” defense attorney says, offering his hand.

“Frank,” he replies, and shakes his hand.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Frank continues. “You got a preference?”

“Anything,” Gerard says, a little breathlessly. Frank notes how his eyes have locked on his ink and he smiles a little to himself.

“You got more of those?” Gerard asks, nodding towards Frank’s tattoos.

Frank smirks. “I might.”

“What’ve I gotta do to find out?”

“Well, if you stopped yelling the word ‘circumstantial’ so much, we would have a nice start,” Frank replies, admittedly a little more snarky than necessary.

“I’ll stop yelling the word ‘circumstantial’ if you stop making bullshit claims,” Gerard bargains.

Frank sighs dejectedly. “Guess you’re never going to get to see the rest of my tattoos.”

“Dammit,” Gerard swears. “Is there any way I could... persuade you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the one who wants to see them.”

“C’mon now,” Gerard says. “You have to have some sort of idea.”

“Well,” Frank says. “You could dance with me.”

Watching the way Gerard’s eyes widen (watching the way he nods all too enthusiastically, how he chokes a little on the word ‘yes’) tugs at something in Frank’s chest, something that, for once, isn’t the need to smash the guy’s head in with a rock.

The feeling only grows as they make their way to the dance floor, Gerard timidly holding on to Frank’s fingers with his own as to not lose him in the crowd. They’re both obviously holding back at first, both a little nervous about crossing the line that they’ve already been stepping on, but then someone bumps into Gerard from behind and he stumbles forward, catching himself by grabbing Frank’s shoulders and pressing himself all up against Frank, knees and hips and chest and _Christ_.

Gerard blushes a little and goes to pull away, an apology halfway out of his mouth, but Frank wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him back in, leaning up and murmuring into Gerard’s ear.

“I like you right here,” Frank says, slowly sliding his hands from Gerard’s waist, down, _down_ , until his palms are over Gerard’s ass, fingertips digging in, just a little. He squeezes, only slightly, shivering when Gerard gasps. It’s quiet, but close enough to Frank’s ear that he hears it, and he wants to hear more of those noises, but louder. Hell, if he gets his way, Gerard will be _screaming_ by the end of the night.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he can’t take any more of this fucking teasing. He _grabs_ , hauling Gerard in and grinding, nosing at the dip in his collarbones, pressing open-mouthed kisses across Gerard’s neck, biting a little at the pound of his pulse that seems to get faster the longer Frank spends nipping (and occasionally really _biting_ ) across the skin of Gerard’s neck.

“ _Frank_ ,” Gerard says. His tone is very nearly begging, but Frank’s not done with him yet.

“Yes?” he responds, his words slightly muffled by Gerard’s neck.

“ _Please_ ,” Gerard whines, grinding harder and more insistent against Frank.

“Please what?”

“Just...please,” he says, pulling Frank away from his neck and gracelessly smashing their lips together, all teeth and tongue and it’s fucking perfect. Frank grips the back of his neck and pulls him in more, winding his fingers through the hairs at the back of his head and biting at Gerard’s lips so hard he thinks he can taste a little blood.

Gerard wraps his fist around Frank’s tie and uses it to reel him in impossibly closer. Frank happily obliges, stepping in and rolling his hips against Gerard’s, against the bulge that he feels getting harder and harder against his hip.

He pulls his mouth away from Frank’s to breathe heavily, resting his forehead on Frank’s shoulder. Frank seizes the opportunity and ducks his head to kiss Gerard’s neck some more, and Gerard _whimpers_.

“What?” Frank says, laughing a little. 

“Wanna see the rest of your tattoos,” Gerard says, tugging on Frank’s tie a little, nuzzling the tendon between Frank’s shoulder and his neck.

“Well I’m not gonna take my shirt off right here.”

Gerard makes a noise like he’s actually disappointed and nuzzles a little more insistently.

“How would you feel about going back to my place?” Frank proposes instead.

Gerard gasps, actually _gasps_ , like he didn’t think he was ever going to hear those words, and he bites down _sinfully_ hard on the tendon he’s been so occupied with for the last few minutes.

“Yes. Yes. Yesyesyesyesyes,” he says, dropping a kiss on the puncture wound Frank’s sure he has now and he grabs Frank’s hand and drags him off of the dance floor.

It’s practically impossible to keep their hands off each other as they walk to Frank’s car, so much so that Frank pretty much forgets how to operate his car keys, but Gerard doesn’t seem to mind.

Once they’re inside the car (and maybe driving at slightly illegal speeds to get to Frank’s), Gerard keeps staring at him with wide eyes and biting his lip.

“What’re you looking at?” Frank says when they’ve stopped at a red light.

“I dunno,” Gerard says with a smile that’s too pretty to be innocent, and he leans across the center console and pulls Frank in, sliding his tongue into Frank’s mouth almost right off the bat, leaning closer and closer until he swears and pulls away.

“Goddamned seatbelt,” he says, undoing the buckle and leaning back across the console to kiss a dazed Frank some more.

“You should probably put that back on,” Frank says, nodding to the seatbelt.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that in my whole life,” Gerard laughs.

“And here’s the second time: put the seatbelt back on,” Frank insists, rolling down his window and flipping off the driver behind them when they honk.

“Fine,” Gerard says, moping as he puts his seatbelt back on. “See if I give you any more kisses.”

“We both know that that is an empty threat,” Frank says.

Gerard crosses his arms. “What if it’s not?”

“Well I don’t have to worry about that, because it is, and we’re here,” Frank says as he pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine.

“ _Finally_ ,” Gerard enthuses, undoing his seatbelt in a rush and climbing over the console and into Frank’s lap with a movement that probably wasn’t as smooth as Frank’s brain perceived it as, but he doesn’t care. He’s kissing a ridiculously hot guy who is grinding against him like his life depends on it. Gerard could be the most graceless person on the face of the planet and Frank would not give one single fuck.

“You know,” Frank says in between kisses, “I have a bed inside.”

“Yeah?”

“We could do this horizontally,” Frank suggests.

Gerard appears to consider Frank’s idea. He sighs heavily. “I _guess_ that’d be okay.”

“Don’t be a smartass. C’mon,” Frank says, patting Gerard’s thigh to get him to move.

If opening his car door was hard, opening his front door is even harder. Especially with Gerard pressing himself all up against Frank’s back and running his hands down Frank’s chest, purposefully catching his fingers on the buttons and letting his hands linger at the top of Frank’s belt buckle.

“This stupid fucking lock,” Frank says, muttering ‘finally’ when he feels the lock mechanism give and the doorknob turns. He pushes Gerard inside and kicks the door closed, shoving Gerard against the wall and diving back in to kiss him.

Gerard’s hands scrabble for some sort of purchase, flying from Frank’s hair, to his hips, finally settling on the collar of Frank’s shirt, gripping tight, but Frank has other ideas.

He locks his fingers around Gerard’s wrists, at first lightly, and then in one solid movement he pins Gerard’s wrists to the wall and kicks Gerard’s feet apart, shoving his thigh between Gerard’s knees and smiling a little into the kiss when Gerard gasps and his hips jolt.

“I believe,” Gerard starts when they pry their mouths apart and Frank gets distracted with Gerard’s pretty (so damn pretty) neck again, “That you said you have a bed?”

Frank hums against his neck, fiddling with the knot in Gerard’s stupid tie. It’s getting in the way and it’s pissing him off.

“Bed,” Gerard says, nudging Frank’s leg with his foot.

“Are you saying you don’t want me to bend you over the couch? Or the kitchen table? Or just fuck you right here, up against the wall?”

Gerard lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk, swallowing hard, his breathing quickening until he swallows hard again and his breathing slows back down, and Frank bites down on his collarbone just to make his breathing speed up again. Teasing Gerard is easily becoming Frank’s new favorite thing.

“I-I’m not saying that. Just-” he pants and whines high in his throat, hips jerking forward again. “Fuck me.”

“I could arrange for that,” Frank says, pulling Gerard away from the wall and using Gerard’s tie to guide him down the hall.

The second they’re in Frank’s bedroom, Gerard starts alternating between undoing the buttons on Frank’s shirt and fighting with his tie, and he makes a disappointed noise when Frank bats his hands away to undo his tie and shirt himself, but his eyes widen and he shuts up when more and more of Frank’s chest piece becomes visible, and Frank swears he hears Gerard choke on his own breath once Frank’s tie is thrown to the floor and Frank starts actually undoing the buttons of his shirt, dark helixes of ink captivating all of Gerard’s attention.

“How attached are you to that shirt?” Gerard asks, the words coming out a little strangled.

“Not at all. Why?”

“I’m impatient,” Gerard says, grabbing the open sides of Frank’s shirt and pulling, buttons popping and making little ‘plink’ noises as they hit various things in the room, but Frank really doesn’t care, not when Gerard’s tracing the lines of his tattoos with his tongue and slowly, _slowly_ , getting to his knees, paying too much attention to the birds on his hips and not enough attention to the obvious bulge that’s straining against his slacks.

“Fuck,” he grits out, Gerard’s fingers feeling like fire when they hit his skin as he undoes his belt, as they hook in the band of his underwear, stopping only to let Frank have a second to kick his pants and underwear away, and _fuck_ , Frank’s not gonna make it if Gerard keeps looking up at him like that, with his wide eyes and his teeth digging into his lower lip, all expectant and just _begging_ to be ruined. _Holy hell_.

Gerard gets right to it, sucking the head of Frank’s cock into his mouth with zero warning, making Frank gasp and his hands fly to Gerard’s hair, and he has to fight with himself not to pull, not to thrust forward like he really wants to and fuck Gerard’s mouth, his sinful, beautiful mouth.

“You can fuck my mouth, if you really wanna,” Gerard says, like he was reading Frank’s mind, and he groans when Gerard sucks him back into his mouth and lets Frank have complete control, holding perfectly still while Frank thrusts into his mouth erratically, no real rhythm established, and he watches as Gerard’s lips turn redder and redder the harder Frank thrusts, and _fuckfuckfuckfuck_ this is too much, he can’t keep doing this, he won’t last.

He pulls out of Gerard’s mouth and does his best to regain some form of control, only half-acknowledging Gerard’s frustrated whine.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks.

“Wanna fuck you,” Frank says, breathless. “Stand up.”

Gerard stands, and Frank wastes no time in kissing that fucking gorgeous, bruised mouth and undoing Gerard’s tie. He undoes the buttons of his shirt quickly, sliding his hands up Gerard’s chest and pushing the shirt off of his shoulders and undoing his slacks, happy when they just slide off his hips and give Frank access to all that beautiful, tantalizing skin.

He steers them both to the edge of the bed, pushing Gerard back a little harsher than maybe necessary, following Gerard as he scoots up the bed. Frank kisses him and runs a hand up and down the outside of Gerard’s thigh while he bites some more at those swollen lips.

“Can I?” he asks, rubbing the skin just above the waist of Gerard’s underwear. Gerard nods and Frank pulls them down and off, dropping his head to suck hickies into the inside of Gerard’s trembling thighs, where he’s just decided would look very good with a patch of purple-red marks.

“Frank,” Gerard moans.

“What?” Frank replies, only pulling away from the hickey just long enough to speak.

“Fuck me,” Gerard whispers, his hips tilting upwards, and then they jerk down when Frank bites especially hard on the already forming bruise.

“What happened to your manners?”

“Fuck me please?” Gerard tries.

“That’s a good start,” Frank says approvingly, and he leans over to open the nightstand drawer to get lube.

He pops the cap and squirts some onto his finger, kneeling in between Gerard’s legs and looking up at his pretty, flushed face, and he thinks that he looks good like this, all spread out and needy, needy for _Frank_ , for whatever Frank’s going to do to him, and his eyes are blown so wide, and his dick is so hard, and Frank can only think about how good the word ‘please’ sounds when it comes out of Gerard’s mouth. 

Gerard writhes when Frank slides the first finger in, releasing a tiny moan when he begins to push it in and out ridiculously slow, and he shoves his hips down, fucking himself on Frank’s finger, but Frank won’t have any of that. He grips Gerard’s hip hard and Gerard stops moving, but he starts making more protesting noises at the back of his throat.

“More,” Gerard pants.

“Excuse me?” Frank says, stilling all motion.

“More,” Gerard says again, but louder.

Frank smacks the side of Gerard’s thigh, not too terribly hard, but hard enough that Gerard yelps.

“More, please,” Gerard says, breathing hard.

“Good boy,” Frank coos, and he slides in a second finger alongside the first, curling them, trying to find that one spot that’s going to make Gerard come undone.

Gerard gasps and his hips lift off the bed when Frank presses his fingers in a little deeper and curls them upward, and Frank smiles a little. He starts moving his fingers a little faster, rubbing hard against that spot every single time.

“ _Frank_ ,” Gerard whines, his hands scrambling from their previous position of gripping the sheets to digging into Frank’s shoulders. Frank grabs one wrist and pins it to the bed, hoping that Gerard will get the message, but he doesn’t. He just digs his nails in harder.

“Hands up above your head,” he says, stilling his movements. “And keep them there.”

Gerard’s hips buck again and he breathes out a breathless ‘ _oh, god_ ’ and does as he was told, reaching up to grip one of the slats of the headboard, and Frank starts moving his fingers again.

“More please,” Gerard says, and Frank can’t help but smile a little.

“Look at who remembered their manners,” Frank says, putting just a little more lube onto his fingers and sliding a third one in next to the first two.

Gerard gasps and squirms, fingernails digging into the headboard, spine arching just a little off of the bed, and when Frank stills his fingers inside him, rubbing all three over his prostate, Gerard actually cries out and his hands fly away from the headboard and back to Frank’s shoulders.

“Aw, and you were doing so well,” Frank says, shaking his head. He pulls his fingers out and ignores Gerard’s whine.

“I’m sorry, please, I’ll be good,” Gerard begs, moving his hands back up to the headboard as if to demonstrate, but Frank shakes his head.

“I don’t think I can trust you to keep your hands up there by yourself,” Frank says, leaning over the side of the bed and picking Gerard’s tie up from the floor.

“Hands,” he says, and Gerard offers them up to Frank, wrists pressed together.

Frank loops the tie around Gerard’s hands, and then the around the slat of the headboard, cinching the silk material tight.

“Is that okay?” he asks. “Is it too tight or anything?”

Gerard shakes his head. “It’s fine. Now _please, please_ fuck me.”

“Say that again,” Frank says, sliding his fingers back into Gerard with a fluid motion.

“Please fuck me.”

“Louder,” Frank commands.

“ _Please_ fuck me.” Gerard says, louder, voice a borderline yell, but that’s not what Frank wants. Frank wants him fucking screaming.

“Louder,” Frank says again.

“Please fuck me!”

“ _Louder_. C’mon, I know you can be loud. You certainly don’t hold back in the courtroom,” Frank implores.

“PLEASE! Jesus Christ, please Frank, _please_ , please fuck me, oh god, _please_ , I’ll do anything, PLEASE!”

“Please what?”

“PLEASE FUCK ME!”

“ _There_ we go,” Frank says approvingly, reaching over to grab a condom.

“Don’t,” Gerard says. “Wanna – wanna feel your come dripping out of my ass.”

“Christ,” Frank groans, and he wastes no time slicking himself up and pressing himself against Gerard’s hole, very nearly losing it right the fuck then when Gerard looks up at him with big eyes.

“Please,” he says, and that’s all it takes for Frank to start pushing in, slowly, watching Gerard’s face as it twists, at first in discomfort, but then in pleasure, face relaxing and eyes sliding closed.

He starts thrusting, beginning at a pace that could be defined as gentle, but they both know that that isn’t anywhere near Frank’s intentions. When Gerard seems to have adjusted to the movement, Frank speeds up, gripping his hips tighter and tighter, thrusting harder and harder until the headboard is knocking against the wall and Gerard is moaning every time Frank thrusts forward.

 “So pretty,” Frank says. “Such a pretty thing. Just taking it, like a good slut. Tell me, Gerard, are you a good slut?”

“Yes,” Gerard says, breathless. “I’m a good slut.”

“You let everyone fuck you like this? Huh? Bend over for anyone who looks at you the right way, says the right things?”

Gerard shakes his head. “Just – just you. Been a while. Since. Anyone else.”

Frank groans and thrusts especially hard. “So only my slut then?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says, his voice hardly a whisper, his eyes drifting in and out of focus as he continuously raises his hips to meet Frank’s. He starts whimpering again, and Frank is starting to think that those pretty little high-pitched whimpers are something he really likes and _definitely_ wants to hear more of.

“Please. Wanna come,” Gerard says.

“We’ve been over this. Louder. Fucking _scream_ for me, slut, and make me come, and we’ll see,” Frank says.

“PLEASE!” Gerard obliges, gasping when Frank somehow manages to pound into him harder, and he knows that he won’t be able to keep this up for too much longer, Gerard is so hot and tight and perfect and his _voice_ is fucking wrecked and it sounds so. Good. Screaming for Frank like that, and he might be insanely close but he’s not done with Gerard, not yet.

“The more you scream, the higher your chances are of coming,” Frank says.

“PLEASE! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, _PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FRANK, OH GOD, PLEASE, FUCK ME, FRANK, FRANK, PLEASE!_ ”

Gerard sounds so good screaming his name and begging, and he can’t _not_ let Gerard come, that would just be cruel, and he’s already so close, and Gerard’s voice is filling the entire room and that’s all it takes, he slams in one last time and collapses over Gerard, mouth pressed against his neck, coming so hard stars pop at the edge of his vision.

He could’ve stayed like that for a while, but Gerard didn’t let Frank get away with that. Gerard thrusts his hips upward, grinding against Frank’s hip, so hard he’s leaking. Frank pulls out gingerly and slides down Gerard’s body, dropping kisses along the way.

Gerard comes nearly the second Frank gets his mouth around his cock, crying out and filling Frank’s mouth and then some, Gerard groaning when he watches Frank swallow.

They’re both breathing hard when Frank unties Gerard, Gerard immediately diving in for a kiss, not at all minding that Frank tastes like his come and that they’re both sweaty and gross.

Frank pulls back the covers and they both climb under it, Gerard curling happily around Frank, his head resting over his heart, and Frank twining his arms around Gerard’s shoulders.

“Now what was that about fucking me over the kitchen table?” Gerard says, voice croaky.

Frank smiles. “Later. Sleep now.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Gerard says, and he burrows back into Frank’s chest, dropping tiny, lazy kisses on the ink there.

“Circumstantial,” Gerard mutters into Frank’s ribs, and Frank can’t help but laugh.

 


End file.
